September 11, 2008
The bright blue sky was rapidly filling up with huge columns of black and gray smoke. My eyes fixated on the enormous gash on the side of the building, which seemed to be bleeding. Horrified, my eyes were glued to the Lower Manhattan skyline. My mind couldn’t process the reality I was facing, and the buzz in the CNN newsroom seemed to rise and fall by the second. As I was looking out the window, the second World Trade Center tower started to fall.
While I was at times reduced to a pile of tears, my father, Gerald, the artist, showed his feelings in a completely different way.
Covering Sept. 11, 2001 as a field producer for CNN was a life-changing event for me. Even though I was in the thick of things, you didn’t have to be there to feel the enormous impact of what happened that crisp, clear fall day. Back home in Arizona, my parents were horrified, but nevertheless confident about the USA, which comforted me when I felt the world was falling apart.
While I was at times reduced to a pile of tears, my father, Gerald, the artist, showed his feelings in a completely different way.
He was so affected, so furious about what happened that he needed to express himself. Charcoal in hand, he started to draw out his emotions. One canvas turned into another and another, until he had five of them across — 20 feet long. His paintbrush flew across the tightly stretched surfaces, bringing depth and power into a once blank area. He worked on it for a month solid.
The painting is as shocking as the day itself. I asked him, what were you thinking? He looked at me with darts flying from his brown eyes and said, “I was angry at the futility and at the destruction of innocent people. What immediately comes to mind was Picasso’s Guernica. He, too, was angry at the fascists, just like I was furious with the terrorists.”
The painting is filled with symbols so vivid; it silences voices and seems to bring out sentiment. In the center is the American flag being raised, showing the hope of the American people and the coming together of a nation. The enormous canvas shows hands reaching up frantically out of the rubble of the fallen towers. The time of the attack is illustrated by watches; wedding rings show the love lost and families ripped apart.
Like everyone else, I have images of 9/11 etched into my being. But I didn’t understand how my father expressed everything I felt so vividly. “The horrific images were all over the place — stories of the fireman, of the victims’ families, and all the courage of the American people,” he said.
“Did you plan the painting?” I asked. He said, “I sit in front of the canvas and work; my emotions pour out through the paintbrush. It’s not something I can plan. This was the reality around me, and I put the images together into a solid body of work.”
My father has been reluctant to show his canvas, not really wanting to put his heart — and his art — on his sleeve for public consumption.
But it’s been seven years since that day. I spoke to my dad, and we decided we would both share a bit of our experiences together, with words and images to remember the day and honor the people who were lost.
If you want to contact Gerald Siegel, you can reach him through Masada Siegel at fungirlcorrespondent@gmail.com.
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